


Still Get Jealous

by stargate-ruiner (purpleplanet)



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Grinding, Implied Sexual Content, Jealousy, Love Bites, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Neck Kissing, Possessive Owen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 07:57:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18494692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpleplanet/pseuds/stargate-ruiner
Summary: Sometimes a mission requires Curt to do things that are a little outside of his comfort zone, such as flirting with (and even seducing, or at least attempting to seduce) certain women. Obviously he doesn't feel anything towards them. It's just part of the job.That doesn't mean Owen won't still get jealous.(Takes place early in Curt and Owen's relationship, before the events of the musical)





	Still Get Jealous

They hadn’t been on the same mission, but by coincidence they were in the same part of the city. And it was less expensive to only pay for one hotel room, especially in such an upscale hotel. At least, that’s how they justified it to their respective agencies.

 

Curt came stumbling into the room late that night, slightly out of breath, a little sweaty. Normal after finishing a mission. Owen had already been in bed, resting his eyes, but keeping himself awake. They didn’t often get a lot of time together, so every moment they could steal was one they tried to cherish. Besides, Owen knew how rough a mission could get, and he knew it was nice to have someone to return to, for conversation, comfort, or even just blowing off steam. 

 

Owen rose from the bed as soon as he heard the “click” of the doorknob turning. Curt saw him getting up and gave a soft smile, about to tell him that it was alright, he didn’t need to get up, but the other agent was already approaching to greet his lover. Curt shut the door behind him with a nudge of his foot, positively beaming at the sight of Owen, ready to melt into his arms. It’d been a long night.

 

Owen met him a few steps from the bed and reached out, cupping Curt’s cheek with one hand and pulling him gently towards him for a kiss. Curt’s eyes fell closed instinctively. Owen moved to close the distance between them, but stopped just short of his mouth, pulling back and lifting his fingers from Curt’s face. 

Curt made a quiet whine of confusion and want at the loss of touch. He opened his eyes to find Owen’s dark brown eyes staring back at him, his brow slightly furrowed. 

 

“You smell like perfume.” 

 

Curt’s face flushed. It was a simple statement. Not incorrect, but he hadn’t even thought about it. But Owen had noticed. Of course, Owen always notices things like that. He’d always had an eye for detail, it was part of what made him such a good spy. But still, it embarrassed him to have it pointed out like that.

 

“I-” he started, but was interrupted by Owen’s hand, back on his face, as he stepped closer to him. Now there were only inches between them. 

 

“Tell me,” Owen spoke directly into Curt’s ear, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up, “Who had their way with you tonight?”

 

Curt fumbled for the words, stuttering. He shifted awkwardly where he stood. 

 

Owen smirked at his partner’s nervousness, drinking it in. He kept pushing, “Who wears…” he took a deep inhale through his nose, “French lavender?”

 

Curt knew he shouldn’t say anything. Wasn’t allowed to say anything. Different agencies, different missions. Top secret. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Owen, no, of course he did, but there were rules about these sorts of things, and for good reason. And if Cynthia found out --

His train of thought was interrupted as Owen ran the tip of his forefinger over  _ that  _ spot behind Curt’s ear. His knees buckled for a split second.

 

“Arms dealer!” he blurted out. He winced and internally cursed himself for being so easy.

 

“Mm.” Owen hummed in response, leaning back closer to Curt, “and what did you do with this arms dealer, Love?”

 

And there was that damn pet name Owen used on him. Still, Curt tried to hold his ground. “Classified.”

 

“Classified!” Owen repeated in surprise, not having expected Curt to defy him like that. He chuckled darkly, and Curt felt it echo in his chest. “Well, given my  _ status _ , I should think that I have clearance...but let me check.” At that he lowered his hand from Curt’s face to his chest, before slowly dragging it down lower, lower, and lower still, until it was exactly where he wanted it.

 

Curt’s breath caught in his throat. He bit his lip to suppress a moan as Owen began to palm him through his pants. Expensive, custom tailored suit pants,  _ damn it, if he ruined these _ \--

 

He let out a shaky breath. “Nothing, we didn’t do much of anything, really!” His tone was all at once too rushed, too nervous, too defensive to be believed.

 

Owen gave him a look, tilted head, smirk, and quirked eyebrow that said: “ _ Yeah, sure. _ ”

 

“Really!” Curt insisted, “We didn’t even take our clothes off.”

 

“Did you want to?”

 

“Owen!” he snapped his name sharply.

 

Owen gave him a fake-innocent look, dropping his hand back to his side. He liked to claim that he could have been an actor but he sure as hell wasn’t fooling Curt. He tried to play coy. “What?”

 

Curt sighed, exasperated. “You know I don’t -- I mean, I’m not, ugh, you  _ know!”  _

 

Owen grinned, seeing his teasing pay off. He let the smoldering wickedness return to his features soon enough however, returning to whispering in Curt’s ear. “You have lipstick on your collar.”

 

Curt ducked his head, blushing harder, as Owen rolled the fabric of his shirt’s collar between his thumb and index finger, examining the mark more closely. The bright magenta imprint of two lips stood out like a bruise.

 

“White shirt,” he frowned, “It’s going to stain.” 

 

Curt’s heart pounded. He could  _ feel  _ Owen’s scrutiny. 

 

“The perfume is one thing…” he tilted his head, the same head tilt of a jaguar eyeing its prey, “but  _ this?”  _ he smirked “People might get the wrong idea…” he leaned right into Curt’s ear and dropped his voice to a whisper, “And we wouldn’t that, would we, Love?”

 

Curt’s eyes screwed shut as he became even more flustered. He quickly shook his head, unable to form the words.

 

“Maybe I should give you a proper mark,” Owen growled, “so that no one will be mistaken. So that people will know who you  _ belong  _ to.” Curt could feel his hot breath on his neck.

 

Curt’s breath hitched at the suggestion.

 

“Only with your permission, of course.” Owen clarified, his tone something like a purr, radiating pure saccharin sin.

 

“Please.”

 

And with that, Owen was kissing Curt’s neck, rough and demanding and possessive. Curt immediately let out an obscenely loud moan.

Owen pulled back for just a second, adjusting his footing so that he could walk Curt backwards towards the bed, with long stalking strides, until Curt practically tripped when the back of his body hit mattress. He fell backwards onto the bed with a soft thump.

 

Owen followed, gracefully leaning in until he was straddling Curt. Curt couldn’t help but grin at finally being able to feel that Owen was just as hard as he was.

 

Owen looked down at Curt with a lopsided smile, fondness in his eyes. Curt barely got a second to enjoy the view of his lover’s expression before Owen rolled his hips and returned to kissing his neck. 

 

Curt gripped at the bed sheets, moaning and writhing as Owen worked him, grinding against him and absolutely wrecking his neck. Sweet kisses turned into aggressive, wild ones. Gentle nipping became passionate biting and sucking.

 

Curt loved the sensation of it, throwing his head back and reveling in the affection. He could feel the mark forming on his neck. He found himself laughing partially because he was ticklish where Owen was kissing him and partially just out of sheer ecstasy of the moment. 

 

“Special Agent Owen Carvour,” he said, between giggles, “you-” he started laughing again, “You are damaging US government property.” he finished, grinning widely with euphoria, still laughing.

 

Owen paused, as if considering this. He pressed a soft kiss to the beautiful rose red hickey blooming on Curt’s neck. He smiled. “I don’t care.”

 


End file.
